Irish lullaby
by RedHatMeg
Summary: It's three am and Jack have to put his infant son to sleep.


**I wanted to write some family fluff with Murdocks and an idea for Jack singing to his infant son came to my mind.**

 **I couldn't find an actual folk Irish lullaby. So I settled for "** **Too-Ra-Loo-Ra-Loo-Ral (That's An Irish Lullaby)", because it's old enough to be known by Jack and his father. I recommend to you Donovan Tea's version of this song. That's how imagine Jack's singing voice XD.**

 **Irish Lullaby**

It was three in the morning and Jack was awake. The reason of him being awake lied in a little, pink bundle in his arms screaming on the top of its lungs like there was no tomorrow. His five months old son couldn't sleep and the boxer was trying to somehow help it. Normally he would call to his mother, she was always happy to assist him with her grandchild, especially since Maggie left. However, Jack didn't want to bother his mother at this hour, besides, he decided that he should at least _try_ to put his own offspring to sleep.

He was certain Matt wasn't crying due to hunger or because he was sick. The boxer knew it, because some time around first am, when he was preparing himself a night snuck, he accidently bumped his big toe on the wall and cursed loud enough to wake his infant son. So there he was – rocking Matt to sleep, feeling tiredness sipping through him and finally realizing why you should never swear, when children can hear you.

"Come on, Matty, go to sleep. You know you want to."

But the baby was still crying, making his father feel even more hopeless. Jack tried to remember what his mother was doing to put her grandson to sleep. The boxer swayed the boy once or twice. It didn't help.

"Hush, hush, Matty." He whispered to boy's ear. "Everything is fine. Daddy is here. Daddy will protect you…"

Jack's feet hurt from walking from corner to corner of the bedroom, while holding the infant for two hours. He sat on the old armchair and looked at the boy. It really hurt to see him crying. Not because he probably woke up a whole block and half of the neighborhood, but because these screams were making Jack feel like he was a horrible father. Because, really, what kind of father didn't know what to do when his child was crying? He could take care of strong, tall men, he could also take a beating to provide for his family, but he couldn't do anything so his son wouldn't weep.

 _You will learn all the good moves, Jackie._ His mother was constantly assuring him. _You only need time._

A lot of time passed and Jack still was clueless. Maybe it was because he was dumb… or a man. Women (at least those who were coming to him and giving him advices) always seemed to know what to do, while he was standing and observing in awe how the magic was happening. But leaving Matty to his grandma for a whole day just seemed unfair to Jack. The boxer felt that he should at least try to take care of his son. And he _was_ trying, nobody could say he didn't. He just wasn't very good at it.

There was one thing he didn't try. Mostly because when he tried it last time, it didn't work, and he only felt embarrassed, since so many people saw him doing it. But at this point he was desperate and right now there was only him and Matty.

Maybe if he this time do it a bit differently… put much more heart into it – it will work.

There was vinyl record Jack's father liked to play, and Jack remembered that whenever he couldn't sleep as a child, his father used to sing this song personally. Matty's grandfather always had a very soft and soothing voice, especially when he was singing really quietly.

Maybe that was what Jack should do?

The boxer stood up and started to rock his son once again. Funny, he didn't need much time to remember the lyrics. Words of the song came to him almost immediately. But he was nervous, a little embarrassed to sing, and he needed a moment to gather courage. Unfortunately, Matt's cries were hustling him, so Jack began sheepishly:

 _Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral_

 _Too-ra-loo-ra-li…_

Matty was still crying, but Jack didn't stop. He manage to steady his voice and he sang the next part the way his father was singing it – calmly, quietly… soothingly.

 _Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral_

 _Hush now, don't you cry._

Matt didn't stop his howls, but he looked at his dad with teary eyes. It seemed that he started to pay more attention to Jack's voice. So the boxer continued rocking him and singing, hoping for the best.

 _Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral_

 _Too-ra-loo-ra-li_

 _Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral_

 _That's an Irish lullaby._

Matt stopped crying, but he was still looking at his father with those big, dark eyes. Jack wasn't sure what kind of emotion those eyes were expressing, however, he suspected that Matty actually liked his dad singing this weird song to him.

 _Over in Killarney, many years ago_

 _My mother sang a song to me in tones so soft and low_

 _Just a simple little ditty in her good old Irish way_

 _And I'd give the world if I could hear that song of hers today._

Jack stopped at the window and positioned himself in such a way that Matty was able to see the stars. At this stage of boy's progress, the view outside were probably some big, blurry spots, nevertheless Jack wanted to show his son a starry sky. He wanted to show him all the wonders of this world.

 _Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral_

 _Too-ra-loo-ra-li_

 _Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral_

 _Hush now, don't you cry._

Holding this small, pink thing in his muscled arms, Jack found himself wanting to shield his son from any danger. Protect him from anybody who wished him harm. Keep him away from any animal or catastrophe that could threaten boy's life. It seemed like a more noble reason for his bulky arms than fighting on the ring. After all, that was a man's duty – to care and protect his family.

 _Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral_

 _Too-ra-loo-ra-li_

 _Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral_

 _That's an Irish lullaby._

Now when Matty seemed to clam himself down, feeling this little, fragile body and smelling its scent had a really weird effect on boy's father. Of course, Jack came to this conclusion earlier, observing his son in the crib. He came to the conclusion that little Matt was the cutest, the most beautiful creature in the world.

Because he was Jack's.

 _Over in Killarney, many years ago_

 _My mother sang a song to me in tones so soft and low_

 _Just a simple little ditty in her good old Irish way_

 _And I'd give the world if I could hear that song of hers today._

Maybe that's why, when Jack realized that his boy finally fell asleep, he didn't put him back to crib but carefully positioned himself on the armchair, still holding Matty. Suddenly the night seemed soothingly quiet and warm. And even though Jack stopped singing, he could still hear the lyrics of the song in his head.

 _Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral_

 _Too-ra-loo-ra-li_

 _Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral_

 _Hush now, don't you cry._

He felt tired, but at the same time really happy, like he just won a battle with a really strong opponent. In some way it was truth – he managed to put his son to sleep. He made Matty's crying stop. Maybe he wasn't such a hopeless father as he originally thought. Maybe he started to learn what to do, after all.

 _Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral_

 _Too-ra-loo-ra-li_

 _Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral_

 _That's an Irish lullaby._

He didn't want to move from his place, he wanted to just sit there, with his little Matty, and fall asleep. This right here was where he should be. And so he closed his eyes, with his son in arms and lyrics of an Irish lullaby in his mind.


End file.
